


Confections & Confessions

by Zinfandel



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: :D, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Blood and Injury, Blow Jobs, Couch Sex, Drunken Shenanigans, Head Injury, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Sugar Daddy, Time Turner, but newt likes to savor his conquests ok, but not really time travel, its still a one shot, office work au, sorta - Freeform, u get ur gratification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 17:22:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9559484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zinfandel/pseuds/Zinfandel
Summary: Newt took a step back in apprehension and contemplated making a dash for the ship at Tina's surprised and worried expression.“You have a court summons, Newt,” Tina whispered, handing him the official MACUSA attendance subpoena.Or: Newt is forced to do some community service :DOr or: Newt does and get what he wants.Or or or: this is a newt is the sugar daddy au :'D





	

**Author's Note:**

> Spawned from the tumblr prompt by firebyfire: Gramander: Newt using puppy eyes on Percival, who can't really say no to them? I'm thinking about something cute, like Percival telling Newt that no, they do not need to buy that thing.... Oh, okay, fine, let's buy it.
> 
> I didn't really follow it at all :'D i'm so sorry. but hey. SOMEONE here is a sugar daddy :'D
> 
> All mentions of coral credit to the immaculate [esamastation](http://esamastation.tumblr.com/)  
> Newt putting his hand on graves to still him is thanks to the lovely [Luna](http://empyreandarkling.tumblr.com/)  
> Graves being a prissy bitch and greedl being a petty dickhead go to my new faves [Mac](http://troubledthoughts.tumblr.com/) and Esama  
> Amazing help beta'ing and so much thanks from [Ben](http://trashdadjoel.tumblr.com/) , Mac, and [inthepursuitofsilence](http://inthepursuitofsilence.tumblr.com/)
> 
> you guys are all amazing and this shitshow would have never happened without you. my god.

Newt was in the middle of his goodbye to Tina when she blinked and stopped talking.

“O-oh, what?” She blurted suddenly, tilting her head and twisting her leg to look down at her shoe. Newt’s eyes followed hers in response and they both looked down to watch a muddy paper rat scrabble at her stocking. 

Tina bent down and hurriedly picked it up and unfolded the note, hunching over to hide it from prying muggle eyes as she read what was sent. Her mouth fell open as she scanned the page, before glancing up to Newt.

Newt, who took a step back in apprehension and contemplated making a dash for the ship at her surprised and worried expression.

“You have a court summons, Newt,” Tina whispered, handing him the official MACUSA attendance subpoena. 

…

Newt rubbed a hand across his eyes as he slumped forwards against Tina’s dining table. 

A loud clatter of china startled him back upright. Queenie had none too gracefully placed a cup of coffee in front of him.

“Buck up, Fido. Looks like we’re gonna be roommates,” She said grinning and sat down to his right. 

“Queenie…” Newt mumbled as he slumped back over, letting his head fall to the table and dramatically pushing the coffee cup and saucer away from himself with his ear. 

He felt her put a hand on his shoulder and rub soothingly. 

“Really, Newt. I wouldn’t worry so much. Just a few weeks of community service, it’ll be a peach. Think of it as a vacation!”

“It’s anything but, I was supposed to go turn in my manuscript this week!” 

“Well the publishers have been notified and you have been given an extension due to official government business…”

“Why wouldn’t they just take my money? I have plenty of useless money; they could have done whatever they wanted with my money. The Niffler would be upset but he’d get over it!”

“You know why, Madam Picquery was explicit in her demands,” Queenie laughed, then laughed harder as she read his souring thoughts. 

Newt groaned in defeat.

“Don’t worry, being a MACUSA gopher won’t be so hard, I’m sure.”

…

Queenie was a dirty liar. 

It  _ was _ hard. Newt was not built to run errands and do parchmentwork and cast paper rat memos all day. He wasn’t supposed to be the wizard filing wand permit forms, and travel paperwork, and magical civil filings. It was exhausting, and dreary, and he hated it so he drug his feet melodramatically through all of the government offices as he delivered mail.

They were shuffling him around departments as a temp. It was their solution since Newt didn’t actually need to  _ pay _ any reparations for damages wrought upon the city. Reparo’s fixed all of that. What he was good for though was being the mook that provided the full time employees with a bit of time off, and boy were they taking advantage of that court order. 

Three days in and he was exhausted with barely any time or energy to twice daily tend to his suitcase while being ushered to and from MACUSA by Tina and Queenie each morning and afternoon. 

At least they only worked ten hour shifts. What a blessing. 

On the fourth morning, Tina grabbed him by the arm and pulled him aside as they entered the MACUSA atrium. 

“Newt,” She said quietly, manhandling him towards a pillar.

“Mmm?” He mumbled, still a third asleep even after breakfast and coffee.

“Today you’re with me. Mr. Graves has come back to work and we need all the help we can get in the auror division.”

That woke him up a bit. “They found him?” he asked.

“He found us, more like. But he checked himself out of the infirmary early to get back to work and  ah...Well...Well he was a force to be reckoned with before this whole disaster I can only imagine what kind of tsunami he is now so just… Just follow my lead, ok?”

“Sure…” Newt replied, feeling a vague sense of dread settle over him. What would the real Mr. Graves be like? Would he be much different from what Grindelwald displayed? Cold, cruel, and calculating? Sharp eyes and pristine attire, exuding power and command? Newt was uneasy already, but he followed Tina obediently through the increasingly familiar walkways and halls of the magical governing building.

…

Most of the morning, thank Merlin, was as mundane as Newt could have wished. It instilled a false sense of ease that Newt had to keep shuffling from his mind as he did Tina’s bidding as obediently as he could; only distractedly sending origami creatures her way with inane animal facts on them occasionally.

Overall he thought he was doing a decent job, running this file here and copying that notation there, familiarizing himself with the MagSec department’s procedures and filing systems. That is until a rat messenger alighted on Tina’s desk and she paused in her paperwork to blink owlishly up at Newt. Tina nodded at it without even opening it and stood, beckoning Newt to follow her as she made her way across the office floor towards the executive offices. Newt followed silently. 

They entered through a humble door directly into Mr. Graves’ office. 

“Mr. Graves, Sir. You asked for me?” Tina inquired crisply as she walked up to stand in front of his desk, hands primly behind her back. Newt shuffled in after her, slouching behind her right shoulder trying his best to look unassuming. 

“Auror Goldstein. Yes...This is?” He said, looking up from the stack of documents in front of him.  

It was almost unnerving to witness Mr. Graves before him. The real one. Newt couldn’t help his observations, noticing how they differed from his first impression, his impression of Grindelwald masquerading as him. 

The man looked precisely like he should have and completely different all at once. His hair was neat and trimmed just like Grindelwald’s had been but a large bandage was adhered across his forehead stretching from just to the left of his widows peak all the way down and into his temple hair that was shaved around the covered wound. Bruises discolored his skin around it and the adhesive was carefully positioned between the darkest discolorations. He had a scruffy beard stubbling his jaw streaked with white, just like his hair and a perfect frown to complete the picture. 

His clothing was pristine and stark black. The accent color though was a light blue that brought out the redness of his cheeks and darkened his eyes, but Newt couldn’t look any longer because that was when Mr. Graves made eye contact and Newt’s gaze skittered down to his boots. 

“Mr. Scamander, Mr. Graves, he is the Auror department’s temp for the foreseeable future…”

“Newton Scamander?” Graves asked in a polite, almost uninterested tone.

“Newt, if you please,” Newt answered, tilting his head to the side in acknowledgment but unable to force himself to meet the man’s intense gaze again. 

“Newt,” he repeated tonelessly before turning back to Tina. “Right, Auror Goldstein, I would like to go over the events of the last year through your perspective if you have the time?”

“Of course Sir, let me just…” Tina said and patted down her pockets for her notebook, which Newt could tell she had not brought with her.

“Let me get it, Tina, I’ll be right back,” Newt interjected hurriedly, jumping at the excuse to escape Mr. Graves’ scrutiny.

“Thank you, Newt,” Tina replied with relief as she turned a smile on him. 

He smiled back and fled.

…

Returning with the notebook, it turned out, was just the beginning.

He was quickly sent off to retrieve requested files for Mr. Graves and Tina as they went through nearly a year of cases handled by Grindelwald on Graves’ behalf. 

Upon their delivery he then had to hunt down invoices for department purchases made by Graves’ imposter, then supply requests, then employee inquiries, then financial records and budgeting materials.  

After that, Newt was running for spell manifestos for each auror’s wand, then travel documents and reimbursement receipts. He’d then had to get even more case files, and afterward started returning old ones.

Eventually, Newt was gasping for breath from all his running and on his most recent delivery Tina turned to him, her hair starting to frizz and her eyes a bit manic. 

“Newt would you please get us some coffee?” She asked desperately. Mr. Graves was pouring over yet another stack of papers in front of him.

“Yes, yes of course. How do you like it?” 

“Lots of cream and sugar for me. Sugar no cream for Mr. Graves,” She whispered. 

Newt nodded and made a break for it for the twelfth time that afternoon.

He took the chore as an opportunity to finally leave the MACUSA building, if just for a bit, to get some much much needed fresh air. Queenie found him on his way out and followed him, grinning.

“You met Mr. Graves then?”

“I wouldn’t say met…” Newt rasped, feeling some energy smooth back into him at the sight of some sunlight.

“You’ll meet him soon enough, I think. Where are we going?”

“You don’t know?” Newt asked with a quirk of a grin.

“Humor me.”

“Tina wanted coffee, so I’m getting coffee.”

“Get them lunch too, you’ll thank me for it.”

And Newt would never disregard the advice of Queenie Goldstein, so he found himself digging into his pockets to order hot sandwiches and popcorn for the three of them to go with their coffee. 

…

When he arrived back at MACUSA precariously balancing his sandwiches and coffee cups, Newt had no choice but to kick a knock on Mr. Graves’ door and nudge it open with his toe. 

The sight that greeted him made him nearly drop the entire lot.

“Tituba’s unearthed  _ Coffin,  _ I cannot work like this,” Mr. Graves’ was loudly complaining as he stood back to frown at his desk.

Tina was almost half inside one of Mr. Graves’ glass cases, perched up on a stack of casefile boxes. Her sleeves were rolled up and her short hair was pushed back with a rag tied into a headband. 

Mr. Graves was in his shirtsleeves pushing his desk to the side and then dragging it back while, grumbling, “that madman hasn’t cleaned a damned thing he usurped since he arrived, do you see the dust in here? I’m about to suffocate and I cannot remember where the hell my desk is  _ supposed to be _ !”

Newt froze where he stood to watch the chaos, almost forgetting the items he was still holding.

Tina was trembling as she delicately moved the various scrying tools in a case from one shelf to the other, scourgifying each item as she went. Newt was beginning to worry about her when she almost tipped her box over and then he realized. She was trying to hold in her laughter. 

Mr. Graves, meanwhile seemed satisfied by the position of his desk and had begun to rearrange the contents on top of it, working around all of the paperwork. “And this? Who keeps outdated policy books on their desk? These are from last year, how did he ever get anything done? We know how: he didn’t! He didn’t get a damn thing rectified! Look at this place! It’s in shambles. Tell me again how no one noticed?” Graves muttered bitterly as he threw the books into a waste bin. 

Tina was moving onto the next set of cabinets when Newt finally remembered his job. “Excuse me?”

Both aurors immediately spun on him, wands raised, and Newt stepped back, actually startled. He felt the food in his hands start to topple but was quickly saved by a deft leviosa from Tina.

“Oh Newt!” She said as she levitated their lunch to the top of Graves’ desk where his outdated policy books once rested. “What’s all this?”

“I thought lunch might do everyone good. Is this a bad time?”

“No! This is great, I’m starving. Sir?” Tina asked as she hopped down from the boxes tucking  her wand behind one ear.

Graves was eying the food on his desk like he wanted to bin that as well, but then huffed a dramatic sigh, letting his shoulders slump as he pulled out his chair and flopped in it. “Why the hell not. Lunch in my office, on my paperwork. Since everything else is desecrated why not this,” he grumbled as he summoned two chairs. 

Tina was grinning as she took a seat and waved Newt over. 

“It’s good to have you back, Sir,” She said as she passed him a bag of popcorn and a wrapped sandwich.

“How did no one ever notice?” Graves asked distantly, unwrapping the paper on his sandwich.

“A lot of imperius curses and department shuffling,” Tina stated matter-of-factly with her mouth full.

Newt sipped at his coffee and marvelled at the absolute opposite change the two aurors went through in his absence. 

“Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Mr. Scamander,” Graves said after a moment as he summoned a napkin to settle on his lap before he began to eat. 

“Think nothing of it, Director Graves,” Newt mumbled back and occupied himself with his own food. 

…

The next day was eerily similar to the last. Only this time, Tina went straight to Graves’ office to pick up where they left off. Newt ran errands for them all day and they stopped for lunch provided by him, then one other coffee break until Mr. Graves lost his motivation and began to fidget with the papers on his desk.

Newt was sitting in the corner collating edits for them when the slap of papers on wood had him looking up. 

Mr. Graves was staring acidly at the quill in his hand before he squeezed his fist and snapped the delicate thing. Black ink dripped over his fingers onto his paperwork and his eyes noticeably glazed over, going distant. 

Tina, ever observant, quietly cast a cleaning spell to wipe up the ink and then reached forwards to gently take the pieces of the broken quill from Graves’ deathly still hand. 

She silently repaired the quill and set it aside, but then didn’t quite know what to do with herself so she turned and met Newt’s stare. He could only twitch his head to the side in an unsure gesture. Neither of them moved.

It was an entire minute later, Newt counted, before Mr. Graves blinked back to the present and inhaled a deep rattling breath.

“He even ruined my good quills…” he muttered before scrubbing both hands over his face delicately avoiding his bandage, before rocking his chair back onto two legs. 

Tina glanced an anxious thing back and forth between Newt and Graves before standing and gathering up her papers, a decision made. “Sir, we only went through a third of the cases yesterday, why don’t we fix up some more? The dust won’t do your instruments a lick of good.” 

Newt watched as Mr. Graves seemed to only then remember he wasn’t alone, pulling his hands from his face. “I suppose you’re right.” he sighed,  “they are filthy...” 

Tina was already rolling her sleeves up and tying her hair back as Graves scanned his cabinets, hands falling to his lap and a scowl on his face. At least the scowl was more present on him than that distant middle-ground vacancy he had fallen so easily into. 

Newt smiled faintly and went back to his organizing, letting Tina take charge and give them a break.  

…

The third day of working under Tina and Graves, Newt thought he’d try something actually thoughtful. After work the previous night he ventured out to the 6th Avenue Low Streets to purchase a few necessities, then spent a good portion of his evening in his suitcase with his time turner to add the finishing touches. 

It culminated in a decent present he thought would help Mr. Graves with his adjustments. The only problem now was how to deliver the item to him. 

As he followed Tina in, he thought of how people enjoyed surprises, and big flourishes. Theseus always loved a good surprise, and he loved to give them too, but well…

Well those plans didn’t culminate to anything when Newt trailed Tina into Graves’ office and held out the giftbox before his brain with any half formed plans of presentation caught up with him.

Graves eyed the rectangular dark wood box but made no move to take it. Newt was almost at a loss for words.

“It’s uh, for you.” Almost. 

“For me,” Graves replied, but he did actually take the box, which was all Newt needed really. He nodded, satisfied enough and went back to his boring pile of half sorted documents all over the floor of Graves’ office, for once eager to be distracted. 

But it wasn’t distracting enough, particularly with Tina ooh’ing and ahh’ing over the contents of the box. Newt couldn’t help watching as Graves took out the gold and glass inkwell, then inspected the letter opener, the blotter, and finally the set of three quills. 

He looked up and caught Newt’s eye, and Newt froze up under Graves’ scrutiny. His hand stilled on the parchment and he felt himself swallow, his mouth going dry.

“Thunderbird?” Graves asked as he gently spun the gold handled feather quill between his thumb and forefinger. 

Newt nodded. “Frank molted quite severely after being rescued.”

“And this?” Graves asked, holding up the matching handled letter opener. 

“Manticore hindbone,” Newt said, starting to feel a bit winded from Graves’ attention. “They, hmm...Manticore repel charms, its bone is an effective deterrent from bespelled letters. If you get any, that is…” 

Mr. Graves looked down at the thin, polished blade surprised, and thank Merlin for that because it broke the spell his eyes seemed to hold over Newt and he was finally able to glance away. It was as yet quite unnerving to look right into the face of the man who nearly killed him in that subway, but Newt also knew there was something else there too. Some strange ungraspable want to help him. Not a foreign feeling in itself but it felt a bit more...weighty when applied to Mr. Graves. 

“This is a more than generous gift, Mr. Scamander…” Mr. Graves said carefully as he returned the letter opener into it’s slot in the box.

“You said Gellert Grindelwald ruined your pens,” Newt tried as he tipped his head away and busied his eyes with his fidgeting hands as they leafed through the next stack of annotations. 

“So I did.”

And Newt hoped that was the end of it. By the sounds of Tina and Mr. Graves quietly talking together a moment later he judged it was and let his shoulders drop back down, relaxing as he shifted his seat on a file box and proceeded with his most boring adventure to date. Temp work.

…

Day the fourth, Newt settled into his corner to keep updating files and copying annotations when he happened to glance up and see Graves with a thunderbird quill in hand going over correspondence letters with Tina. 

A curl of pleasure warmed his insides at the favorable reception of his gift, and Newt decided to explore that reaction a bit more thoroughly at a later time. 

For now, he contented himself with occasional glances up when he heard the slight clink of metal nib on glass inkwell as Graves familiarized himself with his new quill set. 

It soothed something in him that he could help in this small way, provide a bit of comfort for Mr. Graves when he must still be feeling rather displaced, if his curious lapses of patience meant anything. He knew they did, it was easy enough to discern Mr. Graves’ dissatisfaction with his environment, wanting to put it back to how he remembered it, wanting to scrub out all reminders of the crimes that were committed in his name. 

That Newt could aid in his settlement and readjustment pleased him greatly, and he thought that he might try and find future methods to assist. 

…

And explicit opportunity presented itself the next day when Tina and Graves finally opened up the folders pertaining to international relations and news regarding Grindelwald’s activity and movements across Europe.

Activity that was completely contrived because Grindelwald was the one who had written the documents to begin with, and by six p.m. Mr. Graves was picking at the adhesive on his brow just about ready to rip it from his skin completely and Tina was bouncing her leg like she was near to taking off.

Newt himself was exhausted, blinking heaviness from his eyes, but he knew he was relegated to attending to Tina until they went home together so he resigned himself to a long night. But, the long night didn’t have to be so unpleasant, now did it?

“Dinner,” Newt croaked from his corner. 

Graves twitched in surprise and Tina nearly knocked the blotter right off the desk. They had forgotten he was even there.

“What?” Tina asked, shaking her head as if coming from a daze. She probably was.

“It’s dinner time, let’s get dinner,” Newt answered.

But Graves and Tina just stared at him, seemingly uncomprehending. Honestly, Newt knew he came across as cryptic at the best of times but this should be obvious...

“You need a break, I need a break, I also need to tend to my suitcase, let’s go get dinner.” He elaborated, standing and pulling one arm across his chest to stretch out his back. 

“Oh, right. Takeout?” Tina asked standing as well, brushing at her hair to try and make it look decent again.

“No, Yes-er...We’ll go somewhere.”

“Yes please,” Tina said with relief as she grabbed her coat from the back of the chair and went to the coat tree to get her hat.

Newt was putting his arms into his own overcoat when he glanced back at Graves, who had gone back to writing as if he’d never even heard them. Newt looked over at Tina and caught her eye then tipped his head to direct her attention.

“Ah, You too, Director. Come on then,” Tina said marching over to the man and hauling him up by the elbow. 

“No, no I’m quite alright, just bring me back something,” Graves insisted, even as he allowed  Tina to manhandle him out of his chair. Newt grinned. It seemed no one was out of bounds for Tina’s pushiness. He felt a sense of camaraderie with the Director as he was stuffed into his coat. 

Once in the atrium though, Newt took the lead by unceremoniously grabbing both Tina and Graves by the elbows and apparating them directly in front of a restaurant that caught his attention when visiting the 6th-Lows the other day. He didn’t wait for Tina to stop sputtering as he shouldered into the building and grabbed a menu.

“Takeout actually, I think. Here,” Newt said and held out a menu which Graves took, looking a little surly and as if he were going to protest. 

Newt ignored him, however, feeling a bit giddy and anxious with his sudden plan. He placed his order with an even more flustered waitress and then gave her Tina and Graves’ wishes as well before handing over his money not letting anyone either of them argue. 

Graves, however, seemed disinclined with that notion when Newt shoved one of their takeout bags into his arms. “Mr. Scamander-” he began gruffly.

“Come on, let’s go” Newt cut him off with half a smile before he could build any steam. He could be pushy when he wanted to as well. 

“Newt, what-” Tina tried, but Newt grabbed them both and apparated them all back into the MACUSA atrium.

Then, he refused to acknowledge their bewildered protestations until he lead them back into Mr. Graves’ office and down into his suitcase which the Director had graciously let him stash there during working hours so Newt could keep an eye on it. 

Newt caught a glance from Tina as she levitated the takeout bags down into his workshed so they could get down the ladder easier and Newt met her grin. 

“Somewhere, hm?” Tina asked, clearly delighted.

“I need to feed my creatures,” Newt said as he leaned out his shed doorway and took a long look at all of his biomes positively buzzing with activity. After a moment he heard the sounds of what he predicted and then looked over to Frank’s rock perch. There, he saw his work table and chairs were already set out in the evening Arizona sun and his smile only grew wider.

With a flick of his wand, Newt summoned dishware and cloths for napkins. Then he called over some jugs of water sitting by the springhouse, and finally silverware from the Niffler’s den, directing the lot of it over to settle on the awaiting table. He followed the trail of floating dinnerware out into the open space outside his shed with Tina right behind him directing the takeout boxes.

Graves was standing just outside the shed door looking forcibly stoic, and Newt couldn’t help but want to show off just a little. He shifted around the Director and back into his shed to retrieve what he knew would be the conversation piece.

“Alright, let’s have dinner,” He said as he came back out with his lantern in one hand, lightly touching Graves on the shoulder to direct him over to the empty Arizona habitat where Tina was setting out their food. “Director?”

“So this is the case,” Graves said as they climbed the creaky steps together. 

“Yes,” Newt replied as he pulled out Graves’ chair for him. Graves eyed him critically but took his seat without a fuss.

“It is...impressive,” He said next and Newt couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed by the lack of reaction. Jacob had been much more...enthusiastic.

“...Thank you,” Newt tried regardless as he set his lantern down in the middle of the table.

“Impressively messy,” Graves sniffed as he looked behind himself at the entrance of the cavern habitat in it’s own fencing. “I see at least four safety violations in charm chains already and a complete disregard to order or anything resembling cleanliness-” 

“Mr. Graves-” Tina hissed.

Newt, however, barked a surprised laugh. 

Which had Graves giving him a beady look in response.

“The magic is a disaster,” Newt said as he leaned over the table to fiddle with the lantern. “But there was no other way to stuff this much space in. Each vivarium has it’s own expansion charms and then some more within them as well, and to fit the conflicting weather patterns in between the cracks took some wand work i don’t think I can replicate ever again, but it resulted in adequate greenhouse-like self-sustaining ecosystems so I cannot complain. Pure luck, but I’m sorry, Director, if i were to attempt to fix any of your violations I fear the entire apparatus would implode and then explode quite catastrophically. Please put your hands on the table?” 

Tina and Graves obeyed him without thinking and Newt quickly gave his lantern two full turns on it’s base. Time immediately tripped over itself backwards and the three of them with the entire table covered in their takeout food shot two hours into the past. 

Newt sat back down into his chair grabbing at his rag of a napkin to Tina’s gaping mouth. 

“Newt is that a  _ time turner _ ?” She said, inhaling sharply and reaching for the lantern.

“What else would it be?” Newt asked as he spooned a pile of rice onto his plate. 

“Those are highly regulated. Where did you get one?” Graves nearly demanded, staring at the piece of delicate machinery.

“I did someone a good turn in Tanzania a few years ago. It was a gift. Very handy. Pass me the vindaloo.” 

“I should confiscate this,” Graves said sternly, but still handed the bowl over to Newt.

“But you won’t, will you?” Newt asked as he smothered his rice in the sauce.

“I don’t know yet…” Graves muttered looking down at his silverware and grimaced. “Are these washed?”

“Could be.” 

…

After dinner, the three of them still had an hour and a half to spare that Newt insisted they use to relax with while he tended to his more tedious charges. However, it seemed that they had no inclinations of listening to him, and Newt found himself juggling buckets of feed and plants while trying to stop Graves on a steadily building tirade.

“Really, Mr. Scamander, How can you find a thing in this mess…” Graves muttered (and Newt almost choked on a laugh) gravely as he shifted aside a vine climbing up some shelves to find potion bottles behind. 

“Ah, don’t touch that-”

“This has expired.”

“It’s an experiment to gauge it’s effectiveness past duration?” 

“Somehow, I don’t believe you.”

“Yes well…” Newt grumbled. He thought he escaped situations like this since leaving London... “Get out of that-”

“This entire suitcase is a travesty. Has it  _ ever _ been cleaned in here?”

“Annually, I-”

“Only once a year? Mercy Lewis…”

“Come out here and help me with this bucket,” Newt huffed and forcibly shouldered the director of magical security from the inside of his shed and shoved a bucket at him. 

Graves looked down at the hacked up raw meat and turned his nose up, but he still followed New to the Graphorns, so Newt counted it as a success. 

A bit later, Newt was ushering them all into the Erumpent enclosure to make acquaintances with the subject of quite a few inquiries Graves had yet to look through when he heard the sound of his shed door opening. 

“Ah, in here please, don’t want to spoil the surprise,” Newt said to little success as Tina peeked her head around the fluttering canvas entryway. 

Newt sighed, but he knew well enough that they hadn’t seen themselves on their entrance so he let her go. 

What he didn’t anticipate was Graves.

Graves, standing stock still, staring at himself, watching himself be lead by Newt over to their dinner table. 

Tina gasped quietly but that was the kick in the seat Newt needed to twitch into recognition. His eyes darted towards Mr. Graves and once again Tina was quicker on the uptake, but with an elbow in his side he followed Tina over to Graves and mimicked her actions. 

Tina and he moved together to gently grab each of Graves’ elbows and as one they guided the unnervingly pliant man back into the savannah biome, away from the sight of his past self -a perfect copy of himself, walking with ease, interacting with his colleagues without a second thought- and- 

-And Newt really should have done this better.

Guilt soured his insides as he helped Tina seat Graves on a rock under a scrubby tree. Evening had fallen over the enclosures again and a warm breeze swayed the savannah grass. False stars were starting to dot the far away black void of the inside of the suitcase and Newt was kicking himself. 

“Tina…” 

“It’s alright. He’s alright, uhm…” She mumbled and rubbed at his shoulder. 

Graves was still looking out of the entryway towards the shed and other vivariums. 

Merlin bless it, what should he do…

“Water, I’ll go get a glass of water” Tina decided resolutely and turned towards Newt, “Stay with him. It’s a flashback, it should pass.”

“Yes,” Was all Newt could say as Tina brushed past him.

Once alone and after a moment of hand wringing, Newt made his own resolution and approached Graves. The rock was low enough that Newt crouched down then got on his knees in front of him. He slowly reached up, making his moves deliberate just in case, but Graves was miles away. 

Newt gathered both of the director’s hands up into his and sat at his feet, folding them between his palms and warming his cooled fingers. He rubbed his thumbs across Graves’ knuckles and watched his face carefully from his low perch. 

“Director Graves? Er...Percival?” Newt tried, “That was you, you know. The real you, all you. Do you know where we are? We’re in my suitcase, uhm…” Newt started, not quite knowing what else to do. It had been years since this happened to him and helping himself was drastically different than this, and most beasts didn’t perform in this manner when their trauma was provoked. Snarling angry hissing overflows of uncontrolled emotion Newt could manage. This? This quiet vacancy? Way out of his realm of expertise... but he couldn’t  _ not _ do anything...

“I’m Newt, Newt Scamander. Well...Newton Artemis Fido Scamander, I don’t know if Tina ever said my full name to anyone, though I’m sure it’s on enough forms and complaints by now...Ah, here comes Susannah, I guess we would have made her curious ah- ah-” Newt continued and gripped Graves’ hands hard when he made to yank them back, “No sudden moves, she is quite fond of making the most of her horn. Percival? I mean- Director Graves?” 

And finally, finally Graves seemed to navigate his way back into the present. He was staring up at the huge Erumpent directly behind Newt, baffled by her very presence so Newt tried to draw his attention back to him by rubbing Graves’ hands back and forth between his own. 

“Meet Susannah, my Erumpent.”

“The one that escaped?” Graves husked, his voice raw, still remote.

“The very same, she oh-” Newt started, but was supremely interrupted when Suz licked a long uncomfortably wet tongue up the back of Newt’s neck. “She’s rather fond of me…” He finished lamely.

Graves chuckled a brittle thing. Newt just knew his hair was standing on end now. Suz really did like to give him a ‘horn’ and Newt thought he may forever regret luring her back home with pheromones. 

Regardless, a laugh was still a laugh and it was a good sign. Newt stayed right where he was in the dirt and kept rubbing at Graves’ hands till Tina returned with mugs of water. 

“O-oh my, hello…” She squeaked. shuffling around the erumpent to approach the two of them. “Feeling better?” She asked as she held out a mug for Graves. 

And Graves paused, staring at the mug for a moment before he looked down and met eyes with Newt. 

“What?” Newt asked, bewildered.

“My hands please,” Graves asked flatly.

“Oh, oh right, sorry,” Newt said letting him go and sitting back in the dirt. Suz nudged at his ear and Newt reached up to absently scratch at her lips while he watched Graves take his mug and slowly sip. 

Graves in turn watched Suz try and nip at Newt’s fingers and nudge him across the grass while Tina sat down on the rock beside him and smiled a subdued smile at Newt’s quiet distraction. 

Newt, however, felt no better as he watched Graves slowly tip forward to rest his elbows on his knees and his head gingerly in his palms. 

…

The rest of that evening solidified Newt’s next idea.

Nothing else had gone awry and they all three went back to work til well after normal hours and were productive enough, but the atmosphere had sobered from the energy Newt scrounged up for them with dinner. Then, worry of all unwanted things followed him home even if Tina took to trying to talk it out of him as they got ready for bed. 

And that all resulted in his position the next morning, thrusting a fabric wrapped parcel into Graves’ hands.

“What’s this now?” the man asked as he took the package and turned it over to find the twine knot. 

Tina was eying Newt with a contemplative frown, but he was already hefting up a small stack of file boxes and backing out of the office to avoid the awkward conversation he knew was trying to snag him.

“Oh nothing of consequence just, ah-” Newt nudged the office door open with a knee and twisted against it to sort of face them and hold the door open at the same time. “Just a, just a useful little something I thought Mr. Graves might appreciate is all. If you’ll excuse me, I will be right back,” and Newt fled the scene. 

He wasn’t quite sure why he was so nervous about this present. He was though. Maybe it was because this one was more of an apology instead of a favor. Maybe he didn’t want to see Graves’ reaction if it wasn’t good, or maybe he didn’t want to explain himself. Couldn’t really explain himself anyways, not if he didn’t know why giving Graves this was so important to him. 

But, as Newt was transferring the parchment logs back into their flat files the realization struck. 

Huh, was that really it?

Graves’ smile that Newt caught as he wrote smoothly with his quills  _ was _ rather nice, actually. And the eased slump of his shoulders as he savored his black coffee also soothed something in Newt as well. 

The visible energy he pulled together after Newt’s provided lunch was it’s own reward and...well. 

He was an altogether different man after dinner last night, too; poking and prodding through Newt’s workshop and griping over his untended tools and upturned manuscript papers. It warmed him that he was the cause for Mr. Graves’ good moods and relaxation. 

And yes. Yes, he did actually want to see Graves smile more and yes, it would be more than welcome if his smiles came with reminders of Newt. And why did Newt run away again? He was missing the entire point of the gift he shoved into Graves’ hands and-

“ _ Newton Fido _ , what exactly are you up to?” 

“ _ Ah- _ !” Newt yelped as he slammed his thumb into the flat file drawer.

He spun on Tina and sucked his suddenly and frustratingly throbbing thumb into his mouth with what he imagined to be a good glare.

Tina’s raised eyebrows proved it was probably more like a pathetic pout, but Newt still tried to demure. “I fon’ ‘oh wha you are halkin’ abou’.”

“You just gave Mr. Graves a full sized  _ invisibility cloak _ !” 

“Did he like it?” Newt asked as he gingerly wiped his thumb off on his waistcoat.

“Did he- Newt!” 

“I’m sorry, uh-”

Tina huffed and rolled her eyes dramatically and Newt couldn’t help how his lips quirked up, she was really at the end of her rope with him, wasn’t she. “Who wouldn’t like an invisibility cloak? Where did you even get- No, no nevermind that. Why- what are you up to?” 

“Not much at all actually, just putting away the finished files and-”

“Newt.”

“Ah, uh well. Still nothing much?”

“First the quills and now the cloak... You are up to something, Scamander, and you’re gonna tell me what it is.”

“Well I really think…” Newt shifted and his eyes wandered past Tina to watch a paper rat scurry up into a pipe. 

“Don’t make me get Queenie, Newt.”

“You wouldn’t-”

“She’s gonna know by dinner tonight anyways, better get it out in your own words first, I say,” Tina needled as she folded her arms across her chest. 

“Well honestly I only just sussed them out so I really think sharing them would be toeing the line and-”

“I can always Rictusempra you into submission.”

“Ok ok, please not that. It’s just...well it’s nice to do something nice for him is all. I think he needs more nice gestures without ulterior motives directed his way and….well…” Newt scrunched up his nose as he thought of how to say what he wanted without sounding condescending.

“Without ulterior motives?”

“Ok, Merlin’s knobby knees, Tina.”

“You’re not proving you  _ don’t _ have an ulterior motive very well here, Newt,” Tina chided through a growing grin.

And Newt chafed against the obvious bait but folded like the house of cards he knew he was in the face of Tina’s gale force determination. “So I want to make him happy.”

And Tina beamed outright. “Atta boy, was that so hard?”

“Dearly so,” Newt grumped.

…

Graves was indeed quite taken with the cloak, much to Newt’s personal pleasure, and Newt had to explain when he came back how it really was no trouble. Dougal appreciated getting a trim in the wet season when it was too humid to bother wasting energy on grooming and all that Demiguise hair was put to obvious use. 

Newt didn’t really need an invisibility cloak for himself anyways. Dougal was more than willing to lend an unseen hand if bribed with the right fruit (or candy), and with regular trimmings Newt almost had enough fur stashed to send away to be woven into a second cloak. 

He caught himself nearly preening as Graves precisely folded the silky fabric and stashed it on a shelf in the prominent case directly behind his desk, certain it would someday come into good use for whatever auror investigation demanded it. 

…

And then, that evening all three of them went out to dinner again, this time foregoing the suitcase adventure for a regular mundane sit-down meal at one of Graves’ favorite restaurants in the Herald Square Heights district that straddled the rooftops. 

Newt paid for it, obviously, though now Tina knew his angle and Graves seemed to be catching on. Newt couldn’t yet tell if Tina’s face was a subtle dislike for his insistence on grabbing the tab or if she was secretly pleased for the all the gratis treats, but regardless of her stance on the matter, Newt placed his dragots on the table and refused to take them back.

...

On their coffee break the next morning, Newt set his mug down on Graves’ provided coaster and gestured to the man’s bandaged head, broaching a subject that had been catching his attention for days.

“Why hasn’t the bandage come off yet, Mr. Graves?” Newt asked. He had long since abandoned the Director title just like Tina, and he was pleased to find Graves took no notice of the dropped honorific. 

Graves in turn reached an absent hand up to his temple, but stopped himself before touching the covered wound. “Ah, well…” He mumbled and glanced off to the side frowning as he forced his hand back down and his spine straighter. “A bit of magical complication.”

“Surely the MACUSA mediwizards have the necessary stock-”

“Mostly used up, there were many injuries from the obscurus, Grindelwald, angry-scared no-maj’s, and riotous wizards out to take advantage of the chaos.”

“And a healer can’t spare a spell?”

“Spells haven’t worked,” Graves replied, curt and clearly uncomfortable.

“Curare Sanitatum? Brackium Emendo? Ulcus Emantur? Ossis Emantur?  _ Episkey _ ?” Newt rattled off.

“No, none of it. Grindelwald ah… desired more direct access to my memories.”

Tina sucked in a sharp breath. Had she really never asked? With a quick look her way, Newt pressed onwards, “May I take a look?”

“And what good could  _ you _ possibly do?” Graves growled, meeting Newt’s gaze with simmering dark eyes.

It gave Newt pause, but just for a moment. He knew what was happening here almost as soon as it started. Graves was backing into a corner, his defenses rising. Newt was half out of his chair and leaning over the desk that protected Graves from him, carefully engaging the mounting tension.

“You’d be surprised, Director. Animal husbandry includes veterinary knowledge, and field work involves much invented medicine. You say MACUSA is out of Murtlap essence? Skelegrow? Dittany? Ashwagandha oil, or Calendula extract? Honey? Surely they have honey. I have honey, let me take a look at that-” Newt listed off as he reached forwards towards Graves. 

Graves batted his hand away and glared. “It’s healing just fine, Mr. Scamander.”

“Newt. And it is not, I can tell. Let me see, please?”

“Excuse me?” Graves nearly hissed as his lip curled in distaste.

“Is it going necrotic? We’re wizards, wounds should heal within a day.”

Tina placed a hand on his shoulder. “Newt, stop.”

“It’s rotting, isn’t it. Director Graves, I must insist you let me take a look-”

“ _ Bridget Bishop’s bewitched nipple,  _ if I let you will you please stop?” Graves snapped as he shoved his chair back and away from his desk. 

Newt was in front of him in a shot, his wand out. “Of course I’ll stop, once you’re healed. Really. To let this go so long, let me just…” Newt fussed as he magically unstuck the adhesives on the large bandage. Tina was practically on Graves’ desk watching them. “I cannot fathom why they released you from their ward so soon like this…”

Slowly, he peeled the cloth from his skin and Graves cringed as he did it. 

“Oh, oh no. Director-” Newt whispered, finally revealing the barely healed wound. 

Graves only sighed as if he were greatly inconvenienced by Newt’s worry. “It’s clearly not rotting.”

“No, but it might as well be. It’s quite infected. A magical trepanation and no one used skelegrow?  _ Have you been reopening it _ ?”

“How else is a wound cleaning potion supposed to clean?”

“Merlin’s-” Newt bit out, cutting off his curse. He glanced over to his case and nodded. “Alright. Downstairs right now, I’ll put this to rights.”

“We’re in the middle of work, Mr. Scamander-”

“Newt.”

“What?”

“You’re working with a seeping wound in your skull. I think your perspective on normal procedures is skewed due to the fact that you are functioning with a severe head-injury,” Newt shot back at Graves feeling his impatience and anger start to simmer. Of all the hills to die upon, this one was not it. 

“And you’ve been coming to work like this for days. How much doloricidium have you been drinking to ignore this?” 

So without a by your leave or even a pause to let Graves reply, Newt grabbed Graves by the forearms and hefted him to his feet. The man stumbled, caught off guard and Newt used his momentum to crowd him over towards his case. “Tina, Tina help me.”

She sprang into action and opened the case with her wand as Newt pushed Graves towards it and soon the man was turning in his grip and complaining half-heartedly. “Alright, alright, I’m going, no need to push me down the stairs. Would you fix my broken neck then, too?”

“If I have to. Go on then.” 

Once the three of them were finally down the ladder, Graves perched on a stool and Tina leaning against a support beam, Newt got to work. 

First, he handed Graves a bottle of clear liquid. “Here, start drinking.”

“Water?”

“Potato alcohol. You’ll need it. Don’t drink it all. I’ll need it too. Maybe Tina wants some?” Newt said as he began to shift around bottles on his multitude of shelves. 

“No, thank you. Someone needs to remember this.” 

“Right. Be right back,” Newt said as he jogged out out of his workshed to his gardens, returning moments later with handfuls of herbs in the basin of his large mortar and pestle. Thunking the stone bowl onto his work table, Newt began to grind the fresh leaves while picking more from what he had growing from his cabinets. He drizzled in honey just like he’d said and then just as Graves was tipping the bottle to his lips Newt snatched it up to pour a measure in over the leafy paste. 

“Hey-”

“Hush. Here.” Newt said and handed it back. Graves took a swig before it could be confiscated again and immediately started coughing.

“Mercy Lewis, this is noxious. What in the fires, Newt?” Graves croaked. 

Newt just grinned, pleased that he’d used his name. “Drink up, I expect this to hurt quite a bit. This is the healing potion for afterwards, it needs to sit for a bit. Dittany, honey, Calendula, ah, fresh murtlap tentacle, alcohol, a drop of ah, here it is, Re’em blood, mandrake, moondew, a few other things….Drink.” 

He worked at the mortar for a bit longer to make sure it was a good paste with seventeen clockwise rotations and twenty-three counterclockwise. Graves was grimacing through another shot, and Newt went to retrieve his miniature copper cauldron. 

“Alright. I have a few options. Manticore, dragon, coral...calcified wood?” Newt asked as he turned towards Graves who froze with the bottle near his lips.

“Excuse me?”

“For the bone graft.”

“Oh, Mercy no-”

“Ah, ah,” Tina tsk’d and placed both of her hands on Graves’ shoulders pressing him back down onto the stool.

“You said magic wasn’t working very well, so the only other option is a potion, and I have my skelegrow recipe, but it works best with a bone base to leech from. You have the manticore letter opener, it’s from the same body, maybe it’s charm repelling properties would assist you, I couldn’t quite say for sure, haven’t tried it yet. Dragon is pretty universally adaptable to magic, and I discovered this wonderful strain of veneficus coral that grafts flawlessly.” 

“I really think I’m just fine healing the mundane way.”

“That hole in your head isn’t going to close itself, Mr. Graves.”

And Graves eyed Newt with a begrudging resignation before he lifted the bottle of ridiculously strong alcohol to his lips and swigged four big gulps. “Do your worst.”

Newt beamed. “Coral it is.”

…

Newt sat at his table, his notebook in his lap with a cup of tea as evening began to fall both inside and out of the suitcase. Graves was asleep still in Newt’s bed, resting off the effects of his impromptu cranial surgery. 

It turned out to be a relatively easy fix even if the procedure was rather nuanced. Grindelwald performed a few unexpected spells upon the flesh and bone to keep the wound open and more or less sanitary for his use but once they discovered what they were, nullifying them was just a short resolution. The unorthodox application of both an Apertus hex and a Mundi charm to a living subject was what ultimately baffled the mediwizards. Luckily, Newt was able to reverse decipher the effects and symptoms accurately enough to dispel them.

Newt then prepared his homemade skelegrow and mixed in powdered coral, and then Tina held Graves down as Newt cut away his infected skin to reopen the poorly healed wound so he could lay a small disk of flat carved coral into the hole and then seal it up with the skelegrow paste. 

There was an unfortunate amount of blood and Graves swore profusely, conscious the whole time and in severe pain even through the numbing potion and alcohol Newt applied first. Newt felt terrible, he really did, but it was quite necessary.   


Now, Graves had the green healing poultice smeared over his thinly healed skin, and Newt was left to observe him while Tina went back to work. Twice in less than a week Newt was more cause for Graves’ distress than his happiness and that had to change. 

Glancing around at his barely tidied workshop, Newt spied the nearly empty bottle of potato alcohol and had an idea. Quietly, so as not to wake Graves, Newt stepped out of his shed and gestured Dougal over to him.

“Dougal, I’ll buy you a basket of peppermint sticks if you do me a favor. Sound good?”

Dougal nodded and Newt began in on the particulars. 

…

Newt awoke from a sharp jab right in his ribs. 

With an undignified squeak, he tried to roll out of his hammock and to his feet, but the improvised bed made of an old canvas sail he had lying around would not release its hold on him and Newt could do nothing but wiggle as he was poked again.

“‘Mm up! I’m up, what-?”

“I told you to wake me at dinner,” Graves complained as he pulled the canvas back to reveal his face. 

Graves was glowering over him, green potion clumsily cleaned from his forehead and still congealed in his wild bedhair. He looked frankly ridiculous with his shirt half open and sleep still in his eyes and Newt couldn’t help his bleary grin. 

“I forgot,” was his gratified reply.

Graves scowled at him, but Newt ignored it as he wiggled his way out of the deep hammock and flopped from it’s swinging confines onto the floor. Straightening up, Newt smoothed down his rumpled nightgown and smiled at his guest. 

“You seem to be doing better though. Breakfast?”

“I’d rather get home and shower actually,” Graves said fussily, reaching up and tenderly touching at his still raw forehead.

“Let me take a look at that,” Newt said, grabbing Graves by the hand and dragging him from the shed into the morning Arizona sunlight outside. Graves let him push him around until the light was at the right angle and then obediently bent his knees and tipped his head for Newt’s examination. Newt was taller than the man, he didn’t need to shift much, but a head wound was still pretty high up there. 

Softly, Newt poked at his new skin, felt the thin elasticity of it and the new bone underneath. The coral did meld seamlessly just as intended, but the porous structure of the substance still left a patch of rough textured bone under the skin. 

“Is there any pain when I touch?” He asked as he felt around where the seams of the graft should be.

“Not in the bone, the skin is still tender,” Graves answered in a hush, his eyes downcast staring at Newt’s chest. 

“Give it a day, it should settle. There is a bit of scarring, I hope you don’t mind, but magical wounds tend to do that and this one was quite a...well you don’t often see magically preserved injuries…”

Graves just hummed an affirmative noise, so Newt grabbed his wand from his breast pocket and gently tergeo’d the remaining healing potion from Graves’ skin and hair. Then, without any forethought he ran his fingers through the long topcut of Graves’ hair to push the strands back into place even if all of his styling product was washed away when they cleaned the blood from him yesterday. The hair didn’t stay so Newt did it once more.

“So, breakfast?” He asked again, running his fingers across Graves’ scalp a third time. A fourth time.

Graves’ eyebrows rose up, his forehead scrunching as he kept his head still but lifted his eyes and let Newt pet him. 

“What time is it?” he asked after a moment.

“Oh, morning or hereabouts.” Newt gently separated Graves’ hair, pulling apart oily clumps where some potion still tangled it and smoothing down upturned sections that curled from being slept on. 

“And being tardy to your job means what to you again?”

“Interesting thing is, we’re already at work, so we can’t possibly be late,” Newt said, a smile pulling his lips up. His fingers scrubbed steadily through the shaved undercut at Graves’ temple.

Graves frowned. “We’re still in my office?”

“Yes.”

“Well then…” He said, finally straightening up. Newt’s hand trailed down the side of his head and neck as he did so and the casual contact of the gesture struck him pleasantly with a tightness in his chest. “Breakfast sounds great, but I really do need to stop at home for a shower. I feel disgusting.”

“You can use mine. Now- hmm. You set the table and get the tea, I’ll get...eggs. And bread. Um...steak. Well...be right back.”

...

When Newt got back into the shed with his basket of eggs and nuts to make the food he found Graves sitting at his work table sipping a cup of tea and looking expectantly at him. 

“Right, sorry. Just a moment. Over easy? Rare? Butter?” He asked and Graves just lifted his eyebrows. Newt was so busy frying the eggs and roasting the meat midair (thank you Queenie), that he didn’t notice the two bottles sitting on the edge of the table till both of their plates were laden with hot food and he was sitting, reaching for the sugar for his tea.

“Oh! They’re here,” Newt said, pausing to grab up one bottle. “A good haul. Thank you Dougal!” He shouted out the open shed door. 

“Here, Percival, for you,” Newt thrust the bottle towards Graves who slowly took it, entirely suspicious, until he looked down at the label. Then his eyes widened with mild shock.

Newt was beaming as he buttered his toast. “That's first label too, I wasn’t expecting it, but I’m pleased he found it.”

“Dragon Barrel Brandy, Newt…” Graves muttered and set the bottle down.

“If I had that yesterday I’d definitely have given you that instead. The sugar might’ve added a nice nuance to the potion too but potato spirits are very versatile.”

“Newt, what?”

“Hmm?” 

“Mr. Scamander,” Graves rumbled, seeming to come to some decision. His frown was well in place so Newt suddenly felt worry (blast it) curl up in his ribs. Did he get this wrong too? 

Newt set down his fork at Graves’ look and rubbed a hand across his mouth. “I’m sorry, uh-”

“What are you trying to achieve with this? First the desk set, then the cloak, and now extremely expensive brandy? As the Director of Magical Security for MACUSA I am sworn under oath to refuse bribes. Mr. Scamander-”

“Bribes? What, no-”

“-If you are trying to soften me up to lessen your reparative duties then I will be forced to reassign-”

“Mr. Graves, stop I’m not-”

“-your duties to another department, return the gifts, and report the attempted fraudulent activity-”

“ _ Director Graves _ ,” Newt hissed, and that finally seemed to get the man’s attention. He looked at Newt his eyes flinty and his lips thin.

“They’re not bribes, Director. They’re gifts.”

“That is no distinction.”

“That is every distinction, I- what-”

“What are your intentions, Mr. Scamander?” Graves asked looking down at his food like that too might be a means to an end. 

“Now I know where Tina learned this. Merlin’s beard.”

“Miss Goldstein is aware of your actions?”

“Of course, she uh...She cornered me the other day. See, well, hmm..” Newt trailed off, feeling a distinct discomfort with the small revelation that this must have been what half of the fuss about was during school when everyone around him was fixated on stepping out together while he remained fascinated with the greenhouses. 

No wonder his classmates felt overly dramatic to him. This whole moment felt overly dramatic and the longer he paused the more weight began to settle on his shoulders, so Newt huffed a self-recriminating sigh and forced his eyes up and to Graves’.

“They’re gifts and my intentions with them are to please you.”

Graves sat back in his seat. “To please me.”

“That is what I said, yes.” 

“Ehm…” Graves mumbled then cleared his throat, breaking eye contact on his own for once. “Why, exactly?”

“Why I want to please you?”

Graves just gave Newt a look that said  _ obviously _ well enough. 

“The pleasure I derive from observing you relax and content with my gestures of affection is rather disproportionate in its self-gratification-” 

The second look Graves gave Newt had him sheepishly shrugging.

“I mean uh, I like to see you smile?”

“You like to see me smile so you give me outrageously expensive gifts,” Graves’ voice was completely flat.

“Well I did try to pay my reparations in monetary currency, but the Madam President insisted upon labor currency and I really do not hold much stock in the gold in my bank so it would really be left there to tarnish and this seemed to be a feasibly noble pursuit. Do you not want the brandy?” Newt asked as he picked up his fork again deeming the crisis averted.

“It’s not necessary,” Graves mumbled as he glanced at the bottle again while lifting his teacup to his lips.

“None of it is necessary, but I want you to have it.”

“Mmm,” Graves hummed with a positive tone, so Newt smiled around his fork, content.

…

After breakfast, Newt showed a quiet Graves to his shower. It was a simple set up, just a spigot running from the springhouse positioned over a large rock. He left him with a towel and his soaps and the spell to speak to heat the water while he went to prepare and distribute breakfast for his numerous wards.

A bit later, while tending to the Graphorns just past the caves, Newt was politely keeping his eyes averted from Graves’ as he bathed. 

He was checking Mum’s belly, pleased that she was once again in the first stages of pregnancy when he felt Graves’ have no such compunction for modesty. Really, Newt didn’t ever bother with shame much but he did still have some manners, and a shower tap with no curtain or fence around it was certainly the occasion to brush up on his good behaviour. Mr. Graves clearly did not receive word on the matter.

He felt Graves’ eyes on him as he wove through the bamboo forest to the Occamy nest and Dougal, the prickle to his senses of being watched a constant weight on his awareness. It was a necessary survival skill so Newt cultivated it while abroad, though now it heated his cheeks as he kept his back to the man when he tended to the bowtruckle tree.

And Graves’ eyes on him as he worked and tended to his creatures and their habitats never ceased once it started. Newt felt his cheeks flush more and more as time drug on. 

When Graves was done washing up what felt like an eternity of silent challenge later, he cleaned and pressed his clothes for a second day of wearing. As he worked his magic and finished his morning grooming at Newts hung silver platter he polished and used as a mirror, he remained suspiciously silent. So, as Newt was running his fingers through his own knotted hair, trying to make it presentable for work, he couldn’t help but ask.

“Are they unwelcome? My...intentions.”

Graves was at the ladder when he paused and glanced back over his shoulder to Newt. “If they are as you say, then not at all.”

…

That day and the next, Newt observed Mr. Graves as they worked. His productivity may have suffered for it, but Newt really couldn’t care. Office work was the precise thing that lead him to up and leaving England to begin with, so to be relegated back to it by force really spoiled his motivation, and add on that Graves now knew Newt was watching him? Nonexistent. 

Tina was kicking the soles of his boots by mid-morning the second day, but Newt was indifferent. 

Because Graves began to catch himself absently smiling as he dipped his quill into the inkwell and Newt adored the way his smile would fall at his recognition, his brow would slightly furrow, and then he’d look up at Newt before a bit of color would brighten his cheeks. Newt would smile radiantly back at him as he ducked his head when he was caught, but it became almost a routine. It was delightful. 

And the way Graves watched him bring coffee and lunch, knowing Newt was paying for it because he wanted to. 

Well. 

…

Another day later, Newt entered Graves’ office in the morning by himself with a note.

“Tina said she’s on assignment?” 

“Yes, we sent her out with Bickerstaff this morning,” Graves said, looking at Newt over his glasses.

“Don’t we uh...need her here?”

“You’ll do well enough for a few days. I‘m only going through probation listings and minor offenses right now.”

“Right, then. I’ll just,” Newt said, shuffling over to his corner with his folders all spread out across the floor.

“Tina isn’t here, move your stuff up to the corner of the desk.”

“Sure, yes, of course.” Newt muttered and shifted all of his work across the floor before grabbing the relevant parchments necessary as he sat in Tina’s vacated chair. It really felt much better not to hunch over all of the paperwork for once. He wondered if he should make anything more of the new arrangements but ended up just shrugging and continuing to copy notes.

…

Coffee breaks and lunches alone with Mr. Graves were...nice. Whereas with Tina, the three of  them committed to quiet conversations over work and short silent lulls, Graves and Newt by themselves mostly sat in comfortable quiet. 

Newt especially appreciated it when during work because anytime he left Graves’ office, which was often, he was bombarded with movement, noise, and chaos. The desks that lined the auror floor were hectic at the best of times and going to other departments was like navigating through open air markets. Newt could do it, and he did, but he certainly prefered the hush of a forest over a bustling city. 

With Graves, as they took their respite outside of the building at a small cafe, Newt was content to get out his notebook and look over his manuscript and editing drafts. Sometimes he worked on his exhibit sketches while Graves slowly stirred his coffee and stared out the windows, distant. 

“I won’t be through what I allotted myself by six tonight, would you stay late?” Graves asked near the end of their break.

“Of course, Mr. Graves,” Newt answered without looking up, sketching in a process diagram of the stages of Graphorn pregnancy. 

“Thank you, Newt.”

And Newt stilled his hand. He glanced up under the shield of his hair to see Graves bear a small and fond smile at him to which he couldn’t help but brightly acknowledge. 

This was nice, this moment. Where he was, sitting across from Mr. Graves on a bustling early spring afternoon in the middle of New York City. 

Never would Newt have dreamed this was where he could find contentment and peace, in such a loud and crazed place in the middle of thousands of humans. He never planned to stay here long, just long enough to catch a train west, but here he still was, letting go of the urgency of his commitments as he normalized civilized human culture once more.

All of his world travelling, all of the cultures he touched upon and absorbed, none of them lasted in his blood long. He moved too often for that, his only constants his companions in his suitcase that changed and grew and left in their due course as well. 

Mr. Graves though? Here in New York City? With Tina and Queenie and soon Jacob once more. What an unexpected oasis. Newt was rediscovering something here he thought he’d willingly go without for the rest of his life, certain he could find more than adequate companionship in his beasts. 

This nebulous something that he still refused to name, that swirled around him during the working hours and nestled on his shoulders at night. It was exhilarating. 

…

Two long evenings later, the pair of them were just starting their third night of overtime, when Graves grew agitated. 

Newt watched him with his head tipped down so as not to disturb him as Graves set down his quill and rubbed at his eyes with one hand. Glancing up a bit more, Newt surreptitiously checked his forehead where the scar of his injury discolored his skin. There was a circular divot in his skin where the coral rested underneath and then long fingers from the running gash of it that ran from the center of his brow down into his hair above his ear. The mark was a darkened pink but it would fade a bit more with some time. 

Graves dropped his hand back to his desk and picked up his quill to continue. Newt looked back down to his writing.

But, not a few minutes later did Graves’ fingers start to tap on his desk, restless in their rhythm. Newt’s concentration broke at the sound so he glanced up again. Graves was frowning down at his paperwork, his pen tip hovering over the line.

Then that too began to tap tap tap on the paper, blotting it with spatters of ink. 

Graves began to chew his bottom lip and Newt took action. Silently, he reached up and placed his hand atop Graves’ tapping fingers pressing them down into the desk, stopping their staccato.

Graves’ other hand stilled immediately at the contact and he looked up at Newt with tired surprise.

“You’re exhausted, still healing,” Newt said, keeping the pressure of his hand constant until the tension in Graves’ arm released, still he didn’t let go.

“This needs to be done tonight.”

“It cannot wait till the morning?”

“No.”

“Then, maybe a short break?”

“Really, I’d rather just get this over with and go home.”

“If you insist…”

“I do,” Graves said, so Newt removed his hand and slumped back into his chair. They went back to their duties.

But again, not a half hour later, Graves was bouncing his knee and running a hand through his hair. He dropped his quill and leaned back in his chair, tipping it onto two legs as he audibly groaned and scrubbed at his face.

“Uhm…” Newt tried, “maybe take your work home with you if there isn’t that much left?”

Graves let his chair fall back on the ground and looked down at his papers, thoughtful. He hummed, thinking.

“A change of atmosphere might help? The fresh air might wake you up a bit?” 

“Yeah….” Graves mumbled, then clasped both hands in front of himself to stretch. “Yes, yes I think we’ll do that. Come on, then,” he said more firmly as he stood, shoving his chair back.

Newt smiled slightly as he too got up and began to organize his work for the evening. 

Eyeing his stacks of paper, Graves swiftly and wordlessly magicked them up and into a waiting briefcase, then summoned up some more folders and files and then a bit more parchment. Newt was putting his coat on and gathering up his suitcase when Graves turned to him already dressed for the elements. 

With a nod he let Newt from his office before locking up and the pair of them walked together to the atrium where apparating permissions were granted. 

Newt was about to nod his goodnight when Graves stopped him by the shoulder. “Ah, ah, you’re coming with me. This will go faster if you write while I dictate .”

Newt just stared at him.

“Is that a problem?” Graves asked, an amused smile curving up one side of his mouth. 

Newt shook his head. “No, not if that is what you need, Director.”

“Good.” And without any more prompting, Graves took Newt by the elbow and side alonged him back to his home. 

They appeared right in the small foyer of Graves’ home and Newt looked around at the not so surprisingly opulent place. It wasn’t huge, but definitely bigger than Tina and Queenie’s flat. The foyer was just a tiled space that opened to a sitting room directly in front, then a dining room to the right and a smoking room to the left. Wide windows sat on either side of a large mantel in the sitting room and a staircase curved up the far wall. 

Graves’ furniture was mostly deep browns and blacks with gold accents, just like his office, the walls done in dark wood wainscoting and light wallpaper with gas lamp sconces on them. It was a rather old fashioned aesthetic and the perfect orderliness of it all was a bit intimidating.

With a flick of Graves’ wand, a fire crackled to life in the hearth and the lamps lit. He left Newt at the doorway as he made his way into the sitting room and to the couch. Shedding his coat, Graves flew it over to hang on a coat tree, then began to undo his sleeve cuffs and tie. 

After a moment of hesitation watching Graves unravel himself, Newt took his shoes off and left them on the tiles to follow suit, hanging his overcoat and undercoat on the coat tree. Leaving his suitcase there as well, Newt approached Graves who had taken off his waistcoat by then and was flopping back onto his couch with a sigh. 

“Sit down,” Graves commanded as he let his head roll back against the top of the couch, his eyes closed. 

Newt did as bade, watching him all the while and then he too undid his shirt sleeves to roll them up. He pulled his tie loose and undid the first button of his shirt, glad for the end of their formal presentation. 

After a moment, Graves summoned his briefcase with one hand and then opened it to dance all of his papers out onto the coffee table in front of them. So they’d be working here. Newt didn’t argue, appreciating the comfort the couch provided and the warmth of the fireplace. 

“Ok, start here, get that, ah...a quill, here,” Graves said as he finally sat up and leaned forwards to look and sort through his papers. “Take this and this, you’ll be marking the discrepancies in the parchmentwork as I read them from both Grindelwald’s records and the junior first hand accounts, alright?”

Newt nodded and plucked his given supplies from the air. He crossed his legs underneath himself on the couch and set the folders on each knee to take the dictation and the two of them began.

As they worked, Newt marked the time by the dwindling fire, and felt his eyelids grow heavy as the light dimmed. He kept up his duties though and diligently copied down what Graves read to him, crossing out the discordant information in the notes and adding the correct accounts into the margins for him to type up at the office tomorrow. 

Graves’ voice hummed on, the low comfortable cadence of it relaxing Newt even more so than the squashy couch and the warm air did. He began to blink sleepiness from his eyes and his head began to nod.

He didn’t catch himself when he dozed off. 

…

The sound of delicate china clinking as it set down on wood had Newt springing back to consciousness.

He nearly leapt from the couch yelping “Not my good china you scoundre-!” But he half caught himself in confusion. 

This wasn’t his workshop in his suitcase, he wasn’t in his bed. Blinking the sleep from his eyes Newt finally looked up and saw a rather amused Mr. Graves standing in his dressing gown and slippers on the other side of the coffee table, a mug to his lips, both eyebrows raised high.

“Uh-”

“Your good china?” Newt could tell he was grinning behind the rim.

“The uh...Niffler doesn’t much care if a teacup is broken as long as it still shines…” Newt clarified as he scrubbed a hand down his face. “Good morning?”

“Quite.”

“I’m sorry, I fell asleep right in the middle didn’t I?” Newt asked as he swung his legs from the couch to sit up properly, tangling a blanket that was laid across him overnight between his knees. 

“You did,” Graves said as he sipped his coffee.

“I’m sorry, uh, I’ll-”

“It’s no matter, we’ll just have a bit more to do tonight.”

“Right, yes of course,” Newt said, nodding. He reached for the mug Graves had put on the coffee table and brought it to his lips savoring the warmth of it. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, Mr. Scamander, the work will get done one way or another. Breakfast?”

“Yes please,” Newt scowled. Graves laughed at him as he glided from the room to get dressed for the day.

…

Breakfast turned out to be the two of them stopping at a bagel shop before going to work. Newt didn’t quite know what to do with himself as he felt Graves’ eyes track him when he paid for their food, but he continued on regardless.  

Then, work proceeded as mundanely as it could for the rest of the day, though Tina was back briefly for lunch and the three of them went out to eat together.

Come late evening, Graves stood from his desk and flipped his current folder closed. “I am sick of this place, we’ll continue at home,” he stated succinctly then flicked his wand to an fro packing up their folders and retrieving his coat.

Newt smiled to himself as he began to tidy up to follow Graves back to his place to do a repeat performance of more boring work. 

Once there and Graves was in his sitting room lighting the lamps and fire, Newt took his coat off and then set his case on it’s side. “Just a moment, Mr. Graves, before we get started. I wanted to give something to you.”

Graves paused in undoing his cufflinks and watched Newt.

“Just a moment, be right back,” Newt said again as he swiftly opened his case and descended the ladder.

It took a few moments to locate his charge, but soon the creature was under arm and Newt was climbing back out. With the grumpy and squirming imp in both hands, Newt kicked his suitcase closed and latched it up with his toe before spinning back to Graves with a wide smile. 

“Here,” He said, grinning as he held out the creature. 

Graves gave him a critical look, “What in Dorothy’s Good name is  _ that _ ?” he refused to take it.

“He is a Domovoi. A slavic cousin to a Brownie.”

“A Brownie?”

“A house spirit! Do you have an elf?” 

“Ah...occasionally I hire one if i need it, but no, uh…”

Newt shrugged at the news and approached Graves to hand him the Domovoi that had begun to squirm in his arms. “Here, take him, he’s quite rambunctious but only because he hasn’t had a house in a few years.”

“I, no Newt, I can’t take it. Magical creatures are prohibited in American homes, especially New York apartments-”

“He classifies as a Magical Being actually, and last I checked house elves were too, so he’s just the same. Doesn’t clean worth a shot though, hey hey, settle down-”

“Doesn’t clean?” Graves asked, finally stepping up and taking a good look at the Domovoi. He was a small humanoid thing, rotund with short limbs and covered from head to toe with bristly fur except for the baldness of the top of his head. He had a long beard and two gnarled horns curving around his skull. The creature stilled when Graves came close and looked up at him with big yellow eyes seemingly just as curious as Graves was.

“No, they are for protection. He will guard your house if you stay in his good graces. He can talk too if he wants, but they prefer not to. They get along quite well with house elves, pets, and the like. All he needs really is to be fed and watered. They do like smoking tobacco too and I noticed you had a smoking room, it really is most perfect for both of you. He’s been cross with me because a suitcase isn’t a real home you see.”

“An apartment isn’t either.”

“Nonsense, if he really feels the need to find the roots of the building he will, but your home is plenty large enough. They live behind stoves or under thresholds mostly and like to eat bread and porridge and milk. This one has taken to my spirits so if you provide some alcohol i think your flat may end up being the most well protected den in Manhattan.” 

And with that, Newt thrust the Domovoi into Graves’ hands and the man finally took the creature and lifted it up. 

Once at eye level, the wrinkled old thing blinked then smiled a wide flat toothed sneer. 

Newt couldn’t help his own satisfied grin at Graves’ almost affronted look. 

“Hello, Percival Graves,” the Domovoi spoke with an old raspy sounding voice, then it twisted in his hands to face Newt. “This is the home you found?” 

Newt for his part gave the Domovoi a stern look that he hoped quelled any ideas it may get about gossiping. 

The Domovoi only smiled wider. 

Damn. 

“It is quite spacious and pristinely kept, I see no issues, and you would be doing me a great favor by protecting this home,” Newt tried, coaxing.

The Domovoi gave Newt a long look before turning back to Graves, “I am Gostislav. Put me down.”

And Graves did, only for the Domovoi to immediately disappear.

Graves gave Newt a - what Graves probably thought to be a stern, disapproving - look, but Newt had been paying attention for a while now and knew it to be merely exasperated, so Newt almost laughed at his frown and brushed past him to the couch. 

“He gave you his name, He likes the house and will guard it for you, I wasn’t expecting him to say a word, he must have been really fed up with me.”

And Graves followed over to sit carefully in his spot on the couch from the previous night. Newt glanced back at him expectantly and was met with a stare. “A house guardian.”

“Oh yes, much rarer now in magical homes since the proliferation of house elves as a trend. People don’t think they need both, but a good home should employ a wide range of caretakers.”

“It is yet another overly generous gift,” Graves observed as he sat back into the couch.

“Mmmm,” Newt hummed in agreement feeling a bit giddy now. 

“Given because you, what was it...like to see me smile?” the other needled, and the question caught Newt off guard. The directness of it forced Newt up straight, bringing his scattered attention right into focus and he turned to Graves.

Who was smiling. 

Graves had a small charming smile pulling his lips up, crinkling his eyes ever so much, and Newt felt his breath stall in his chest.

“Yes,” was all he could whisper. 

And it was a long moment in which they watched one another before Graves cleared his throat and broke eye contact. 

Newt felt winded as he looked away and clutched a hand against his stomach. A blush crept heat into his cheeks and Graves began grumbling over something about work. 

Work, right. Work. 

They were here because of work.

Newt blinked the encroaching daze away when he reached for the parchment and folders Graves sent him. He swallowed the tightness in his throat, and without any other comment or acknowledgement of that moment that strung between them, Graves organized his papers. He cleared his throat again and found his place in his notes to start reciting the changes Newt had to write, and they got to the fires blessed work.

But, the task was barely a proper distraction and Newt was repeatedly having to magic away his mistakes to retake notes and Graves was losing his place in the reports. 

Still, they valiantly persevered for almost an hour before Graves groaned and snapped his ledger closed.

“I need a drink,” he huffed with irritation.

Newt looked up just in time to watch Graves get up and head for the smoking room. He went back to his notes though, and used the short break to catch up on some mistakes that still needed fixing. 

A moment later a highball glass was thrust in his face and Newt was forced to sit back and take it. 

Graves was standing over him with the bottle of Dragon Barrel Brandy Newt had gifted him. With a bit of magic he popped the cork and held it out until Newt responded by holding his glass up for him. Graves poured him a measure of the brandy and then summoned up aguamenti’d ice for his glass as well.

Newt stared at his glass, waiting until Graves flopped himself back onto the couch and poured his own drink before he took a sip. 

Graves set the bottle on the end table with a heavy thump and swirled the liquor against the sides of his glass before tipping it to his lips, and once he did he hummed a very satisfied sound. Newt smiled.

“Mercy Lewis this is good. Where did you get it,” Graves asked, tilting his head to look at the label.

“Not too sure exactly. I imagine Dougal liberated it from Gnarlak though.”

“Liberated…”

“Mmm, it is good, isn’t it,” Newt hedged knowingly. 

“I’m drinking stolen Brandy?” 

“Possibly.”

“Mr. Scamander, you are a menace.”

“Not intentionally, most of the time.” 

Graves savored his drink thoughtfully then looked up and over at his other room sniffing the air. He sighed and slumped back into the couch, defeated. “Gostislav has found my tobacco.”

Newt could only laugh. 

The two of them enjoyed the alcohol in silence for a moment more before Graves picked his ledger back up, cracking it open once more. He remained slumped in the couch as he read from where he left off, slouching down into the cushions, his knees spread wide, and one arm hanging off the armrest. Newt couldn’t help his glances as Graves dictated the changes to him between idle sips of brandy. 

They continued on smoothly then, the break and the alcohol bringing some much needed energy, and it was only about another hour later when Graves closed his current ledger, done and ready for the next. 

Newt looked up from his notes as Graves replaced the old ledger and plucked a new one from his case across the room. He leviosa’d it over to himself while also refilling his glass and Newt glanced down at his own resting on his knee. 

The glass was full.

Newt could have sworn he finished it. Twice.

Still, he lifted it to his lips and sipped as he waited for Graves to find the beginning of the next book. He soon found his place to start anew, and Newt followed along. He drank his brandy slowly, appreciating the smoky iron of it’s initial flavor that gave way to light sweetness and finished with a bit of spice. It really was an exquisite liquor, Dougal had good taste. Gnarlak would be livid once he discovered the theft, and the thought made Newt smile as a warmth and cozy fuzziness settled over him. He too was slumping down into the couch as time wore on and the alcohol took its affect.

But soon, Newt fell behind. He tried to fix his mistakes and catch up, holding his glass in one hand against his knee as he scribbled down notes, but he needed Graves to stop a moment so he looked up. 

“Mr. Graves-” Newt started to say, but his voice trailed off at the sight of the man beside him.

Graves was relaxed against the couch, ledger propped open on one thigh, his sleeves loose and showing off his forearms. His shirt was pulled half out of it’s tuck, but what really drew Newt’s eye was his open collar. It was unbuttoned a good three buttons and Graves’ undershirt was showing through. His tie, missing from his neck, was resting on the coffee table next to his collar clips and cufflinks, and his hair was in disarray, falling down to the side. Newt noticed how Graves’ cheeks were a rosy pink where the stubble on his jaw didn’t shadow them gray. 

His name from Newt’s lips stopped the man from from his droning recitations and he glanced over to Newt with a relaxed tilt of his head as he hummed a questioning sound. 

“Mr. Graves,” Newt tried again. “Have you ever learned about Golden Snidget mating rituals?” 

That was  _ not _ what he meant to ask. 

Graves shook his head no regardless, and his hold on his ledger relaxed a tiny bit. 

“It came to my mind when I was describing to Dougal the task i asked of him the other night; to infiltrate the Blind Pig, you see. You were asleep in my bed then,” Newt’s mouth was running without his permission he was sure of it, but the pleasant whisper of warming alcohol eased Newt’s reluctance until he licked his lips and continued. 

“And well, male golden snidgets, fast things that they are, set themselves a momentous task. In the wild the species travels vast distances in search of pollen and nectar as well as their migrations to and from their nesting grounds. But, during mating season, male golden snidgets travel hundreds of miles almost every other day just to find their intended the best most lovely yellow flowers to most beautifully compliment their golden plumage.”

Newt swirled the dark brown liqueur in his glass, watching its movements, and took another sip, wetting his tongue. He peeked back over to Graves who had the ledger resting on his lap now and was staring intently back at him. Newt averted his gaze helplessly to the fire.

“Can you believe that? Every other day a new flower hopefully more lovely than the last. All to gain the affection of another if just for one season.”

And he heard the clink of ice on glass, knowing Graves lifted his brandy back to his lips.

“Are you a Golden Snidget then, Newt?” Graves asked quietly.

“I don’t think…” Newt muttered, sipped some more just to stall for a moment and gather his muddling wits. Then, with a breath for courage Newt shifted on the couch drawing one knee up to better face Graves. He looked at him then, making unflinching eye contact. “I don’t think I’m quite up to par yet, I haven’t found that perfect shade of gold, but I will. I will Mr. Graves and I hope that when I do you’ll accept it.” 

Newt blinked, pulling back ever so much but didn’t look away. He was not entirely embarrassed, not with the dance of brandy in his blood, but he was also not entirely confident either. Regardless, demuring now would prove nothing, he knew quite well when to play prey and when to prove otherwise.

Graves looked away, though. He turned towards the fire and watched the flames, absently rolling his glass against the couch. Slowly he lifted his brandy tipping the glass to his lips, his tongue lightly touching to the rim. His head tipped back as he finished the last of it and he deliberately set his glass down on the end table without turning his eyes towards Newt. 

Newt felt as if he were about to combust with anticipation as he watched Graves’ every deliberate move, his heart quickening against his ribs.

“You know I never needed gifts,” Graves finally said as he shifted a bit, resting his elbow on the armrest and his head against his knuckles, tilting towards Newt ever so much and finally, finally he met his eyes once more. 

“Oh, uh…” Newt mumbled, leaning away, thrown off by the apparent refusal. “I’m sorry if I’ve assumed-”

“I never said they were unwelcome,” Graves elaborated.

“I’m sorry-?”

“The gifts were all extremely thoughtful and kind, much more than I deserve.”

“Oh no, Percival, you deserve the world,” Newt said, smiling faintly. 

“Oh, I don’t think quite that much.”

“No, I really do think that-”

“I think I just deserve you.”

And Newt blinked, his mouth falling open just a bit. 

Graves’ smiled widened at the reaction and with a twist of his free wrist Newt’s glass slipped from his fingers and settled over on the coffee table. Newt couldn’t help his eyes that followed the movement, and then the papers that were strewn about him on the couch joined the rest of their work in a neat stack.

“Don’t get distracted now,” Graves murmured and he shifted fully to face Newt, resting his back on the armrest and bending one knee up to prop against the back of the couch, his other leg sprawled off the front. 

It was an invitation if Newt ever saw one and he immediately climbed to his knees to kneel between Graves’ spread legs. He placed one hand on Graves knee and looked down at the man splayed before him. The Director of Magical Security, laid out, open and waiting, his eyes dark and focused through the heady pleasure of intoxication. 

Newt reached forwards, leaning his weight on Graves’ knee and sliding the fingers of his other hand into Graves’ open collar, finally touching the skin he’d been coveting for days. He pressed his palm down right to the side of Graves’ sternum and ran his thumb up his neck, over his adam’s apple, smiling when Graves swallowed and it moved against his touch. 

“I’m sorry, you are very distracting. I can’t help it,” Newt said as he pressed forwards again, holding himself up with both hands on Graves’ shoulders now. 

In response, Graves reached up and gripped Newt by the backs of his elbows, steadying him as he slid down the length of the couch, pulling him with him. The back of Graves’ thigh pressed into Newts and he shifted with the man until Graves was laying, his head propped against the armrest, under Newt completely. 

Newt lowered himself on top of Graves whose hands slid up his arms till they smoothed over his shoulders and down his back and Newt dipped his head down to, at long last, press their lips together. 

Graves smiled against him and Newt was helpless in his immediate delight. He ran his fingers up each side of Graves’ neck to hold his head gently and pressed another kiss to his lips. Then another and another till he shifted and kissed the corner of his mouth then over to his cheek, tipping his head to the side to press his lips into the rough skin of his bristled jaw. 

He felt lightheaded with the contact despite knowing full well how drunk he was. Graves was warm and solid and so very real in Newt’s hands, he felt he would vibrate out of his skin from all the want buzzing within himself. But Newt was never one to deny himself a thing that he wanted so he kissed and nipped at Graves’ ear, his breath heavy and loud.

To which Graves replied with a huff of his own against the side of Newt’s head and a firm sudden squeeze of his ass. 

Newt yelped when it shifted him forwards and abruptly their foreheads pressed together and Newt was staring down into Graves’ eyes. He gasped in a half laugh and watched Graves try and focus first on one of his eyes then the other before he had to blink away his focus for they were too close. 

It made Newt laugh outright and he tipped his chin forwards to kiss Graves again. “It worked though, didn’t it, Percival.”

“Hmm?” Graves hummed, distracted by his hands that began to knead and rub on Newt’s ass and his lips that reached forwards for another kiss. 

Newt obliged him, happy in the indulgence and spoke against the softness. “My solicitations. I didn’t even have to ask and here you are, mine for the taking.” 

That certainly had Graves focusing back on his face. Newt pulled away a few inches and smiled wide.

“Sly,” Graved mumbled, eyes narrowed up at Newt. 

“Menace,” he said next and then rocked his hips up and against Newt’s impatiently. “Less talk, more-mmmm-”

Newt silenced him as requested, but was met with the wetness of Graves’ tongue sliding against his lips. He bit at the questioning thing, catching it between his teeth and pulling it gently till Graves had to open his mouth to make a low noise at the back of his throat. 

That’s when Newt let go and pressed forwards, sliding his own tongue atop Graves’ like an invitation right into his mouth. He licked up behind his teeth as their lips mashed together and Newt couldn’t help his moan when Graves licked back, tickling the underside of his tongue before slipping to the side to twist into his mouth. 

It was a wet kiss, made messy by their clumsiness and inebriation but Newt loved it, his lips pulling wide to smile even as they kept moving. 

Then, Graves gripped hard at Newt’s ass, digging his thumbs into the divots of his muscles and holding him down as he rubbed up hard against him, grinding into him and fitting the line of his hard cock right against Newt’s. The pleasure was exquisite bordering on painful when the rough cloth and buttons of their trousers chafed and Graves was groaning for it, his head flopping back and to the side, Newt chasing his lips down. 

“Yeah,” Graves rumbled, gasping for breath but not wanting to pull away, making their mouths sloppy. Newt nipped at his teeth and lips while Graves wetly repeated the word, his hips rolling firm, his hands anchoring Newt’s down for him to rut against. 

But soon, Newt began to squirm into the restraint, kissing at Grave’s cheek again then down to his chin. Graves’ caught on and loosened his hold so Newt could get at his throat and hummed while gasping for air. His hands tugged at Newt’s shirt till it pulled from his trousers and he slipped them under it to scrape blunt fingernails up the skin his back.  

Graves’ nails found and caught on the roughened skin of Newt’s scars and then they smoothed back over them, blindly following the lines of the marred skin. It delighted something in him that caused Newt to nip and bite into Graves’ collar, sucking and pulling at his skin as his back curved and arched into the curious massage Graves gave. 

Newt let himself savor the moment, but only briefly before he slid lower yet, his fingers working clumsily at Grave’s shirt buttons, pulling them open to let him shove it to the sides. Then, Newt yanked the hem of his undershirt up and out of his trousers and thrust his hands up underneath it to ruck it high on Grave’s chest stretching the fabric and exposing his skin for him to worship. He looked down at Graves for a moment, fascinated by the picture of him, all of his prim neatness in ruin as he heaved for breath, his stomach rising and falling, his eyes black with want. 

Placing both palms on Graves’ chest, Newt pressed his weight into his pectorals, pushing him down into the cushions. “Four founders, look at you,” He breathed, winded from the sight just as much as from the rapt focus of Graves’ eyes back at him. 

Graves really did have a weighty stare. Newt was by now well acquainted with it. 

“It’s not just Golden Snidgets that present their mates with gifts you know,” He babbled, his gaze falling to Graves’ chest where his wrists twisted, smoothing each palm against him, running his fingers around the upper curve of his muscle then to the sides where his fingertips skimmed over the sensitive skin just shy of his underarms, making Grave’s twitch. He let his palms slip down lower for his thumbs to stroke over his nipples, pressing down and pulling them with him just for a moment before he cupped and rubbed heavily into his pectorals. 

“All sorts of creatures delight in providing care. Dougal has taken quite a shine to the fledgeling occamy, helping to feed them, though the niffler is quite the opposite-”

“Newt,” Graves husked, digging his fingers into the softness at Newt’s waist to stop him. “Really?”

Newt grinned widely back. “I’m not distracted. I just mean to say that I want to give you something else.” 

He waited for Graves’ awed half nod, before winding his fingers into the open lapels of his shirt and sat back dragging Graves up and off the couch to sit. Graves grunted quietly, letting Newt handle him as he would, letting him bear his weight as he tugged him upright. 

Newt didn’t rest there long though, leaning in for another kiss before sliding off the front of the couch and pulling Graves around till both of his socked feet were once again on the floor. He settled between Graves knees, trailing his hands down his stomach to the waistband of his trousers, wasting no further time in pulling at the buttons.

Then, he was tugging on Graves’ pants and tapping his thigh twice to get the man to lift his hips. Which he did, bracing his hands on the couch, and Newt made quick work of pulling the whole lot off his thighs until he divested Graves’ of pants and trousers completely, leaving the man in nothing but his shirtsleeves and sock garters. 

Newt sat back on his haunches, his hands holding gently onto Graves’ knees and he looked at his hard cock curving upwards then up to his face, a grin growing on his lips. Graves stared back at him, his mouth open a bit as if the removal of his pants triggered a confundus, which only had Newt smiling wider, and sliding his fingers up Graves’ bared thighs, pushing them more open so he could settle in close and get his lips on his cock. 

The touch of them had Graves gasping, his hips twitching forwards and Newt opened his mouth to let him hitch in ever so much before licking his way back off and sliding his hands up to press into Graves’ stomach. Newt kissed at his cock again before tipping his head back and swiping his hair out of his eyes. 

“Accept your gift with grace, Mr. Graves,” He murmured and Graves huffed a disbelieving laugh back at him that he felt when it tensed through his stomach. Newt laughed as well before he leaned in and let Graves’ cock slide back onto his tongue. 

Slowly, Newt lowered his head, testing his wherewithal for his task, opening his throat and relaxing his tongue, letting the length of Graves’ cock slip against his soft palate and further. He was certainly drunk by now, the brandy singing through him, slowing his thoughts but certainly not his desire. It was a good few long months since Newt gave pleasure in this manner, but he was not out of practice in the least, able to swallow down Graves’ considerable cock with only some extenuating discomfort.  

He couldn’t stay there though as much as he enjoyed the weight of it stopping his breath, so Newt drew back and Graves’ stomach was tense and nearly trembling under his fingers. Newt dug his nails into the softly defined muscle there as he pulled off Graves’ cock, lathing it slick with his tongue, licking around the curve of it, pushing back down. 

And Newt picked up his stride, really getting to work. He rested his elbows on Graves’ thighs and absently let his hands push up his abdomen, finding a comfortable position to rest his weight into. 

Graves was nearly writhing under Newt’s attention, trying valiantly to keep still like he was asked but Newt knew it was a losing battle. He wasn’t sure he minded so much, but he did want to keep Graves under his will so Newt pulled off once again, catching his breath. 

He twisted his own hips then, spreading his knees wide to pull his trousers tight across his cock to put some desperately needed pressure there where he received none. Graves was panting above him clutching into the couch cushions, his cock slick and shiny in the dimming light of the waning fire. 

Newt reached out and grabbed at one of his hands and wordlessly, Graves gripped onto it. He found Newt’s other hand without prompting and Newt pulled them in, pressing them down, palm open, into the crease of Graves’ thighs where he could grip and dig his fingers into his own flesh. 

“Good?” Newt rasped, his voice already open and growing coarse.

“Mercy fuck-” was all Graves could say.

So Newt pressed his hands down onto both of Graves’ curling his fingers around the backs of them and grabbing hold. He used his forearms to push his legs open once more and leaned back in, gently blowing a cold breath onto Graves’ wet sensitive skin before warming it back up with his tongue. 

It wasn’t by much more of this sort of treatment that drew Graves to the edge. Newt didn’t even have him into his throat when he scraped his teeth up the length of him and Graves’ fingers became vices around his own and the man grunted an inhaling whine. He tensed under their entwined fingers and spilled hot and bitter onto Newt’s tongue. 

It left Graves gasping for his lost air, his grip loosening but not letting go, pulling at Newt before he even released his cock. 

Newt let himself be moved, licking his way from Graves’ skin and climbing to his feet. Graves for his part pulled one of Newt’s hands to his lips and kissed his knuckles before letting it go and running his fingers through his mussed hair. 

He was relaxing back into the couch when Newt yanked their other still clasped hands to grab his attention. “Mmm-mm,” He hummed with a close-lipped smile and Graves stared up at him for a moment before his eyes dropped down to his trousers still fastened and still tented. 

Both of Graves’ eyebrows lifted and he smiled “What would you like?” 

Newt replied by wordlessly climbing onto the couch, kneeling straddled across Graves’ thighs. He let go of Graves other hand to undo the placket of his trousers, but his hands were batted away so Graves could do it himself. He pulled at the buttons then shoved Newt’s pants and trousers down his hips with both hands as far as they could go with his legs spread. It freed his cock to the cooling air of the sitting room and the heated consideration of Graves’ attention. 

Newt wasted no time on Graves’ scrutiny, desperate to pursue his own pleasure, spitting the cum he held on his tongue into his palm and wrapping his slickened fingers around himself. 

“Mother of Mercy,” Grave breathed but took his cue to lend his hand.

Newt wrapped his fingers with Graves’ on his cock and guided him, gripping just right, pulling. He was entranced with watching Graves’ hand twist on his skin, working with him to get him off, with how his eyes were eagle focused on the task, determined to aid in his gratification. And Newt couldn’t discern whether it was the sight of Graves burned behind his eyes or the way his thumb pressed in and slid on the head of him that did it, but Newt found himself leaning over, bracing his weight with one hand on the back of the couch as he came all over Graves’ fist and stomach. 

Heaving for breath, Newt paused a moment savoring the sensation and pulse of it before he flopped forwards as if gravity suddenly reclaimed him. His forehead found Graves’ shoulder to rest against and his knees sprawled and bent, his ass falling onto Graves’ thighs, all strength gone. 

Hands came up around Newt’s back, skimming up his spine to wrap around his shoulders and hug him close while Graves’ lips found Newt’s sweaty temple to press against. 

They breathed together for a short quiet moment, Graves rubbing at Newt’s back and Newt grinding his forehead into the corner of Graves’ neck before Graves asked quietly “How shall I ever repay this?” 

And Newt couldn’t help his weary laugh. “With many repeats.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Curare Sanitatum - careful healing spell  
> Brackium Emendo - bone healing spell  
> Ulcus Emantur - wound mending spell  
> Ossis Emantur - bone mending spell  
> Doloricidium - painkilling potion  
> Veneficus coral - Wizard coral (lmao)  
> Apertus hex - Opening hex  
> Mundi Charm - cleaning charm  
> Tergeo - liquid cleaning spell
> 
> Besides the canon spells i made all that shit up.  
> [Come say hi to me on tumblr :> ](http://zinfandelli.tumblr.com/)


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